Слова:
The Number Twelve Looks Like You Alright I Admit It Was A Whore House

. The glass of wine and the plate of overcooked food burnt too long. ...Paranoid about a fuck me dress. Relishing in memories, twisting like fate. It's only a

I like, I, I guessed it right on first, you know? Like I know . . . FZ: Beat him while you're talking. Phyllis: You know like . . . I tell you something. I

I did it, and it was, I tell you, I was getting hot, see my shirt? Phyllis: I'm ready! I got the shirt, I got the pants, and I got the belt with that